by Frank Zafiro
“You’ve got something better to do?”
“Not something,” he said. Then he lowered his voice. “Some one .”
“Put your cock away, Lothario. Meet me at the Zip’s on Monroe.”
“In an hour?” he asked hopefully.
“Twenty minutes.”
He sighed. “Okay. You got it. But who’s Lotholio? One of those elves from that hobbit movie?”
“Make it fifteen minutes,” I said, and hung up before he could object any further. “Jesus,” I muttered to an empty kitchen. “Maybe he’s too stupid to be working for the cops.”
I knew that wasn’t true, though. Matt was little more than a big kid where fun was concerned, whether that meant toys or girls. But he was dialed in when it came to our work.
When I’d finished off my coffee, I dressed and headed over to Zip’s. The fast food burger joint smelled strongly of grease, French fries, and Pine Sol. I bought a coffee, took a corner booth, and waited.
Matt was ten minutes late.
“Your watch break?” I asked him.
He gave me a sheepish look. “Sorry, Boss. This girl…she’s pretty demanding, you know? I tried to make it quick.”
“Spare me the details.”
Matt sat across from me. “Jeez. You look terrible.”
“I feel worse, but thanks for noticing.”
“You’re kinda grumpy, too,” Matt said matter-of-factly.
I stared at him incredulously. “Do you know what I’ve been through in the past two days? I mean, do you have any concept?”
“I think so,” he said.
“No, you don’t. You don’t have a clue.” I shook my head. “I’ve been carrying all the weight for this crew lately. It’s time for you to step up and do your part.”
Matt looked hurt. “I offered, before. But you said—”
“Forget what I said. Are you ready to work, or are you too busy chasing tail? Because if you haven’t noticed, our little business is falling apart around us. I’d like to put an end to that.”
“Me, too.”
“Fine, then. Here’s what I need you to do.” I leaned forward and stared at him intently. “I think someone in this crew is talking to the police.”
I watched his eyes. They flared slightly when I spoke, but I couldn’t tell if it was because he was worried I’d figured out it was him or if he was worried about someone talking to the police.
“No way,” he breathed quietly. “Why do you think that?”
“Falkner hit my house with a search warrant last night.”
His eyes became even wider. “What?”
“You heard me. He and his SWAT boys took down my door and searched the place.”
“Did they find anything?”
“You think I’m stupid enough to keep stuff at my house?”
“No, I’m not saying that. But sometimes cops plant stuff.”
I shook my head. “Only the dirtiest ones do that. I never saw it happen the whole time I was on the job.”
“Well, I’ve heard of it before.”
“From who?”
“Lots of people.”
“Like who?”
“Like…I don’t know. People.”
I waved away the conversation. “It doesn’t matter. The point isn’t whether they found anything or not. The point is, they found the secret compartment that I have in my bedroom closet in case I ever did have something at my house.”
“So you’re good, then. No evidence.”
“You’re missing my point. How did they find the compartment?”
He shrugged. “Searching, I guess.”
I shook my head. “No. I’ve been on plenty of search warrants with cops before. They search okay, but there’s no way that detective would have found the compartment unless he was looking for it. It’s too well hidden. He knew where it was, and he found it.”
“I don’t know, Boss…”
“I do. He already knew where it was. The question is, how did he know?”
“Maybe it was a good guess.”
“Will you fucking listen to me for a second?” I snapped. “It wasn’t a guess. He knew . And he knew because someone told him. Now, who knew about that compartment?”
“I don’t know.”
“I do. Three people. Me, you, and Brent.” I let that sink in for a moment, then continued. “I sure as fuck know that I didn’t tell him. And I don’t think it was you, or I wouldn’t be sitting here talking to you.”
A moment later, he took my meaning. “Brent?” he asked, disbelieving. “No way!”
“Hey, I didn’t want to believe it, either. But it’s the only logical answer. If it wasn’t me and it wasn’t you, it has to be Brent.”
He looked down at the table. I could almost hear the machinery in his head clunking and scraping through the thought process. I watched him carefully.
He looked up after a little while and asked, “How do you know it wasn’t me?”
“You already got tested,” I said. “Falkner worked on you after you got picked up on that assault warrant but you stood tall. What more proof do I need than that?”
He nodded his head slowly as if that made sense. “So what are we supposed to do? I mean, it’s not like we can take the guy out and whack him or something.”
I looked at him meaningfully and said nothing.
Matt shook his head. “No way, Boss. That’s too much. I mean, if it’s self-defense or something, I get hurting people. But not for something like this. We’re not mobsters.”
“You’re right,” I said. “We’re not bad guys. But that limits our options, too. I’ll be honest with you. I don’t have a plan. I’m not sure what to do. That’s what I need from you.”
“A plan?”
“An idea. I need you to spend some time thinking about this. Tell little miss hot-in-the-sack to get lost for a while and put your mind to work. Because we’ve got to figure out something.”
“Are you sure,” Matt asked. “I mean, you’re kind of the idea guy, Boss. I basically drive truck, you know? Maybe you should—”
“What did I just say?” I growled at him. “I’ve been doing everything lately. It’s time for you to step up. Besides, I don’t have time to figure this out right now. I’ve got to meet with Ozzy in less than three hours.”
His eyes widened, then narrowed. “You sure you don’t need help with that?”
I shook my head. “We reached an agreement. He’s going to let us have the merchandise, minus what he calls a ten percent aggravation fee.”
“I thought you didn’t want to do that.”
“I don’t see that we have any choice. Like you said, we’re not bad guys. We don’t go around killing people, even people like Ozzy. So at the end of the day, this is about the only option available to us.”
He nodded slowly. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.”
“I’m meeting him at Marconi’s restaurant at one o’clock,” I said. “He’s coming alone and bringing the stuff.”
Matt’s expression grew worried. “And you’re sure you don’t want me there?”
“No. It’s a public place. And I’ll be sitting in the back corner, so I’ll see him coming the whole way.”
“Ain’t that how they killed the guy in The Godfather ? In an Italian restaurant full of people?”
“You watch too many movies. This isn’t New York, and Marconi’s is as safe as it’s going to get.”
“Okay,” Matt said, his voice doubtful. “I’d just feel better if someone was with you.”
“I’ll be fine. At one o’c
lock, there’ll still be a heavy lunch crowd. Anyway, Ozzy’s not going to be a problem anymore. Brent and the cops are the bigger problem. And I need you working on that.”
“You want me to talk to Brent? Kinda feel him out?”
“Absolutely not. Don’t talk to him. Don’t even answer your phone if he calls.”
“What if he texts me?”
I just stared at him.
“Seriously,” Matt said. “He knows I keep my phone with me all the time. He’ll understand if I don’t answer a call but if I don’t answer a text, he’ll know something’s up. He might get worried and come over to my house to check on me.”
“Do you answer your texts when you’re knocking boots?”
“Knocking what?”
“When you’re with a girl,” I said. “Do you answer your texts then?”
“Of course not. Not unless she’s really lame.”
“Well, there you go. As far as Brent knows, you’re in the middle of a sexual marathon. Unless he wants to stop by to drop off some Gatorade, he should leave you alone.”
Matt thought about it, then nodded. “Yeah, that’ll work.”
“I know it will.”
He smiled at me then, the first smile since he’d arrived. “That’s why you’re the boss. You figure this stuff out. You’re smart.”
“We’ll see how smart I am after I leave Marconi’s. The whole meeting shouldn’t last more than a few minutes, so I’ll touch base with you after.”
“Okay.”
“Try to have an idea what we’re going to do about the rat in our house by then,” I said.
Matt nodded exuberantly. “I’m all over it.”
Less than an hour later, I was sitting in a small diner in Browne’s Addition across from Brent.
“No way,” he said. “Not Matt.”
“Why not Matt?”
“He’s loyal,” Brent said. “He’d never roll on us.”
I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms. “Let’s compare your narrow criminal experience to my extensive police experience for just a second. What do you think is more likely? Your world view that Matt is a stand-up guy or my experiential knowledge that when faced with the reality of prison, almost everyone will flip?”
Brent lowered his gaze and stared down at his hands. “I just have a hard time believing it, that’s all.”
“How do you think I felt?” I said. “But there’s too many coincidences here. And he’s the only one who we know has been in contact with the cops.”
“Shit,” Brent muttered.
“Yeah, shit is right. The question is, what are we going to do about it?”
“Confront him. Get it out in the open.”
“No. Absolutely not. Don’t even take his calls.”
“Why not?”
“Because as soon as the cops know that we know he’s a snitch, his value to them is zero. That means they move on us right away. Which leaves us no time to plan or to counter their actions. And we need that time to figure out what to do.”
“Which is what?”
“I don’t know yet,” I admitted. “And I’m too busy right now to figure it out. You’re going to have to think of something.”
“What could be more important than this?”
“Getting our merchandise from Ozzy.”
Brent raised an eyebrow. “I thought that was a done deal.”
“It was. I convinced him otherwise.”
“How?” He pointed at my face. “I mean, no offense, Boss but he made a pretty good statement that the conversation was over.”
“I convinced him his professional reputation would suffer if people thought he’d welshed,” I said. “He saw the wisdom in that. Eventually.”
Brent shook his head slightly. “I wouldn’t have expected that.”
“Me, either. But then he hit me with a ten percent aggravation fee, and I knew it was on the square.”
“So we’re going with the merchandise, then?”
“No choice, really.”
“It’s the right thing to do,” Brent said. “Even if it is just this once.”
“It’s the only thing to do. And it is definitely just this once.”
“All right,” Brent said. “But you’ll want me with you when this goes down, right?”
“No. I’m meeting him at twelve-thirty at Niko’s Diner downtown. It’ll be busy with the lunch crowd so it’ll be safe. Plus, I’ve got a corner booth in the back reserved. I’ll see him coming the whole time.”
Brent chewed his lip thoughtfully. “So you don’t want me there?”
“No. I want you to go somewhere quiet, put on your thinking cap, and figure out what we’re going to do about Matt.”
“And clipping him isn’t an option?”
I gave Brent a long, careful look. He stared back at me flatly. Finally, I said, “No. We’re not bad guys. We’re businessmen.”
“So’s the mob. And they clip guys for this.”
“We’re not the mob,” I said firmly. “Figure out something else.
Brent shrugged. “All right. You got it. But you be careful.”
“Always,” I said.
I stopped back at the house. Helen was back from the store, drinking coffee and reading a magazine in the kitchen. When I walked in, she stood quickly.
“Everything all right?”
“It’s going to be,” I said. I poured myself a cup and leaned against the counter. Then I told her what I’d done and the rest of my plan.
As she listened, a small smile curled up at the corner of her mouth. When I’d finished, she nodded. “Yeah, it might just work.”
“It’ll work,” I said with more confidence than I felt. The fact was, if it didn’t or if I was wrong about any of it, I ran the risk of a jail cell or a shallow grave. I tried not to dwell on that.
“What’s my part?” she asked.
“Your part?”
She nodded. “Yeah, my part. I listened to your whole plan and there doesn’t seem to be a job for me.”
“There isn’t. It isn’t safe.”
She stared at me in wonder. “Safe? This isn’t about safe, Jake. It’s about you and me winning out here. You can’t expect me to sit on the sidelines like some maiden waiting for you to slay the dragon. I won’t do that.”
Slaying her dragons had pretty much become my job description since she appeared on my couch, but I didn’t say so. Instead, I told her, “Your part comes after. With Arturo and that whole angle. You should work on that while I’m solving these issues.”
“No.”
“Helen—”
“No!”
I put my coffee cup down and approached her. When I was close enough, she threw her arms around me and pulled me into a fierce embrace.
“I lost you once,” she whispered in my ear as she clung to me. “I am not going to lose you again.”
I wrapped my arms around her. “That’s not going to happen. But I need to focus on this to get it right. If I’m worried about you, I might blow it.”
She was quiet for a while. Her hold on me didn’t diminish. She pressed her body tight to mine. “I can’t lose you,” she said.
“Then I need you to do this for me. Step aside. Make some calls. Wait for me.”
She didn’t reply right away, but eventually I felt her nod her head against my chest. “All right, Jake. I trust your judgment. I’ll get started on our business with Arturo.”
“And not here,” I said.
She pulled back and stared up at me in surprise. “What?”
“Not here,” I repeated. “L
ike I said, it isn’t safe. We’ll put you up in a hotel for a day or two, until it’s finished.”
“Where?”
Anywhere but the Davenport, I thought darkly.
“Wherever you want,” was what I said.
After a teary farewell, I got Helen off in her rental car to the Red Lion on the River. Then I spent some time on the Internet, researching some addresses and telephone numbers.
Around ten o’clock, I finished off my last cup of coffee, took a long hot shower and shaved. Then I dressed in clean clothes and headed downtown.
I drove past Marconi’s and then Niko’s, just to be seen if anyone was looking. Then I hopped onto Interstate 90 and headed west.
The office of the Washington State Patrol’s Spokane detachment was only a few exits west of the city. I found some visitor parking and went into the building. The small waiting room was empty except for a receptionist who sat behind safety glass.
“Can I help you?” she said, her tinny voice echoed through the microphone.
“I’d like to talk to the narcotics supervisor,” I said. “I have some important information but there’s not a lot of time.”
She gestured me toward the chairs in the lobby while she made a call. I ignored the direction and remained at the glass while she dialed and talked to someone. I couldn’t hear what she said but it didn’t matter. Me standing there would accelerate things. Despite the glass between us, her body language made it clear that she was uncomfortable with it. It’s amazing what an impact there is when you violate even the smallest of social expectations.
She hung up. “Detective Manning will be right out.”
“Thanks.” I smiled and nodded to her, then dutifully took a seat.
Less than five minutes later, a thirty-something detective in an off-the-rack suit entered the lobby through the locked door next to the reception desk. I stood as he approached.
“I’m Detective Manning,” he said, his tone as formal as his military haircut. “Misty said you had some information for us?”
“Not here,” I said. “Is there somewhere private we can talk?”
He hesitated. I knew what he was thinking. Was this just some worthless bullshit that was going to eat up an hour or two of his day when he could be doing casework? Or did the guy in front of him really have the goods?